


Comes in Handy

by DollyPop



Category: Soul Eater
Genre: Blow Jobs, Dirty Talk, Explicit Consent, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Gentle Sex, Gentleness, Gratuitous Smut, Hand Jobs, Orgasm Denial, Praise Kink, Romance, Smut, Trust Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-20
Updated: 2016-10-20
Packaged: 2018-08-23 14:57:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,775
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8332114
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DollyPop/pseuds/DollyPop
Summary: That was the thing with being with Stein: he yearned for control. Was desperate for it, really. And she was more than happy to give that to him. But there were times, rare as they were, that he needed to put himself in her hands entirely. And she was happy to give that to him, too.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [katyfaise](https://archiveofourown.org/users/katyfaise/gifts).



> S/o to Katy who wrote a hella wonderful smut that inspired this story!! <3 <3 <3 And also for being a fantastic person who makes me giggle and tolerates my ridiculous self. You're the real MVP. If you haven't read her fic, you're missing out!

Sometimes, she wondered just how she got in the position she was in. For years, ever since she was just a girl, people had told her that Stein had no love in him; and, somewhere in her, she’d believed them. Not fully, of course: she could never give up hope on him. Even when she was a half a world away and with someone else, there was always a sharp pang when she’d look at whatever man she was on a speed date with and she noticed that he didn’t have _his_ eyes.

And friends would call her stupid for not giving up on him. Stein? Interested in her? It would never happen.

Joke’s on them. Who would have thought that over a decade after she first fell for him (first cut is the deepest indeed), they would be laying on his (her? _their)_ bed, with her arm brushing over his flexing stomach?

“You’re doing so well, Frank, just hold out for me, okay?” she asked, kissing his temple as he panted, all but bucking into her touch. Her fingers were wrapped around his hard length, pumping and then squeezing gently at the base until he nodded, gasping.

Never happen. Sure.

They’d been at this for all too long. And, oh, how could she ever deny him? She wasn’t usually the type. There was a pleasant ache between her own hips that needed attending to, and surely, had he known, had he not been brought to the edge over and over and over again, he’d decide to put her first, again, as usual. But this was not about her. This was about him, and how the hard knot of muscle and nerves that he had been when they went out to train was unwinding, his face uncharacteristically unguarded. She hummed sweetly, feeling his large hand come to her hair, try to hold onto her as his only leverage.

That was the thing with being with Stein: he yearned for control. Was desperate for it, really. And she was more than happy to give that to him. But there were times, rare as they were, that he was out training and she would notice that every motion he made was stiff and knotted.

Perhaps it was an attest to how much she knew him that she knew this time wasn’t a time where he needed to soul stitch her to a table, or their couch: to bring himself deep into her in a brutal, frantic pace until all the stress was gone and his frustration would smooth.

No, not this time. This time, he needed her gentleness, instead. To coax it all out. And they lay beside each other, her lips brought over his face repeatedly as she gently peppered his cheeks and chin and nose and lips and eyelids and _everywhere_ with kisses, and he just looked so ready to completely unwind. He was trembling in her hold, one of his hands fisting the sheets in a white-knuckled grasp.

“Marie-“ he gasped out when she’d rub over the underside of him with a maddeningly slow motion.

“It’s okay,” she assured, both hands glowing as she pumped him, her thumb coming to the head where he was dripping precum, and he groaned, biting his lip and turning his head so that he could hide his face against her neck, muffling his moan. “It’s okay, Franken. I’m here.” When he only moaned, low and deep, she didn’t let up. “You can let it all out. Let it all out for me, okay? You’re safe. You’re alright.”

The moan that tumbled out of him, this time, was louder, his cock twitching in her hold, and she tenderly traced where his screw met his skull with her other hand as she gently squeezed him, making him whimper.

“Oh, Frank, you’re so _close_ ,” she said, feeling at the vein on the underside of his hardness, the way his pulse had increased, how he was ready to come undone. He all but thrashed, so ready—so heated. No doubt, her wavelength felt incredible on his fevered skin, all too warm but in the best way, making him feel as though he were going to spiral out of his skin. She knew because sometimes it made her feel that way, too. When she’d let her fingers feel her wetness. When she’d let him watch.

She wanted to do so, then. Because every flutter of his pulse, ever sound he was making sent a dull throb of arousal shuddering down her spine, having her feel her heartbeat between her hips.

“Marie,” he breathed out, the syllables stretching in his mouth, her palm slicked with him and effortlessly moving up and down his length, taking a moment to cup his balls when she reached the base before moving back up to his head, where she circled her fingers around the tip.

He was going to come undone. She could feel it through their resonance. The orgasm that was building in him was massive, huge. Stein gasped against her, refused to a broken babble, shuddering as his hips bucked, but Marie moved back down his shaft.

“Do you want to finish?” she asked, soothingly and he whined in response, flexing his hips as though begging for mercy. But Marie was strong, and her mind wasn’t hazed in overwhelming pleasure like his was, at the moment. She has all the leverage, here.

And yet, through their link, she could feel how relaxed he was. How _safe._ He never wanted to put himself out of his own hands, yet, in hers, he was unwinding.

“Marie! Fuck-“ he cursed, as she made the sensual slide back up to his tip, teasingly pressing her thumb against his slit. There was no way he could last if she was going to do that. All his nerve endings had come to the surface, every ounce of pleasure engulfing him.

“If you want,” she said, teasingly. “Just a little longer, babe, I promise,” Marie said, petting his hair as she stroked him. “When I say, you can cum. Alright?”

It took him a moment to nod, but when he did, she smiled, taking her hand away. The reaction was immediate, his desperate whimper, but she rolled him onto his back, kissing him deeply and bringing a hand to his cheek, cupping the jaw.

And, then, she was moving. Lower lower lower, she placed her lips down his chest and his stomach, down past the silver trail of hair he had on his belly that led to his flushed cock, and she smiled up at him warmly as he brought his hands to her shoulders, taking a moment to move her hair out of her face.

“You don’t-“ he started to say, but she gave a kiss to his tip, and he was so oversensitive that she was sure he could have come from that alone.

“Shhhh,” she soothed. “Tell me what feels best, okay? Don’t hold back.”

And, with that, she locked her singular eye on him and opened her mouth, taking him in inch by inch in a sinfully smooth, familiar glide. Her thighs rubbed together, her throbbing having intensified, but she was so much more interested in how he arched his back so sharply. How, here he was, the great Franken Stein, turned to putty in her hands. It took him no time to start rocking into her mouth, speech fragmented into various commands of what he wanted her to do, to take him in deeper, to suck—and she had to relax her throat to make space.

It wasn’t too difficult, at that point. Frankly, her gag reflex divorced her _long_ ago.

She hummed softly, soothing her fingers over his hips, and he seemed as though he were at the point of sobs when he said: “That- Marie- g-God- that’s good-“ her name a prayer on his tongue, and she decided to have mercy on him.

He didn’t need her to say he could finish. He could _feel_ it through their link, and through how she took him all the way in and sucked hard, bobbing her head, dialing her wavelength up as far as she could. His fingers threaded through her hair, holding her in place as he dissolved into thrusts and useless, barely understood speech: most of it having flipped into his native German tongue when she felt him release in her, every breath he took a scrap of her name or a ragged pant after his initial shout.

Truthfully, if she didn’t have a dick in her mouth, she’d probably be grinning, even as she swallowed. It was a common occurrence, that she’d witness him come undone so thoroughly, but it was always welcome, regardless.

His was a familiar taste, by that point, so she didn’t mind swallowing it all, and she waited until he weakly pushed at her shoulders to move away, releasing his cock from her mouth with a soft, wet sounding pop, licking the tip for good measure.

When she moved her way back up his body, he didn’t seem to have any strength left at all, doing little more than whispering her name before she wrapped her arms around him and pulled him in close.

“How you feeling?” she asked. “Better?”

“Erstaunlich _—good,_ ” he said, and she grinned as she kissed his cheek, finding the corner of his mouth.

“Can’t say that too often, hm?” she teased. 

“You could prove magic is real,” he muttered, moving down just enough to rest his head against her chest, and she all but cooed, the compliment not lost on her that a man of facts and science was calling her magical.

“I’m sure that’s just the orgasm talking, but I appreciate it none-the-less,” she informed him, and he hummed in acknowledgement, nuzzling between her breasts and finding the strength to wrap his arms around her, pressing his fingertips lightly into her back as though he never wanted to let her go.

She didn’t particularly know how they got to the point they were at: often, it felt like a whirlwind. But it was a good whirlwind. It was a _great_ whirlwind. And it didn’t much matter how they got to it: what mattered was then. That she could bring him to the point where all his eloquence was a pointless babble in the air, fragments of endearments and her name, and their resonance would bring electricity to her skin. What mattered was lying beside him, being able to take all the stress and pain and frustration away like she’d always wanted.

He felt good against her, warm and solid. And his wavelength was downright adoring.


End file.
